


Lately I've been, I've been losing sleep

by viveriveniversumvivusvici55



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Gender-Neutral Inquisitor, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Introspection, Lyrium Withdrawal, Not by choice, staying up late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 13:25:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14057910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viveriveniversumvivusvici55/pseuds/viveriveniversumvivusvici55
Summary: Lyrium withdrawal is a bitch and Cullen can't sleep.Gender-neutral inquisitor is mentioned, but the Inquisitor is gently romancing Cullen.





	Lately I've been, I've been losing sleep

It has been a very, very long night.

Cullen has no idea what time it is. Maybe somewhere after the second bell - the darkest point in the night, not even close to dawn. Not that he really cares about the time, because all that it means to him is another hour that he has been tossing and turning in sweaty sheets, a headache pressing so deep into his skull that he can feel it coming out his ears. He needs to sleep to quell the exhaustion filling his bones, but not only is he so uncomfortable that he can’t fall asleep, he’s _scared to._

Maker, he hates this. He hates the ache that has settled so deep into his bones that he can't imagine living without it now; the nightmares that have taken over his nights and slipped into his waking moments; the paranoia that threatens to make him bite at anyone that approaches him; the thirst he can never slake, no matter how much he drinks; the cold in his fingers that sometimes makes his hands impossible to use; the craving lurking in the background of his mind and in the back of his throat; the weight of the world pressing down on him with more than just responsibility. 

It's agonizing, and it leaves him in a ball of anger, disappointment, and shame that is only held in check by his own resolve. He has to live with it. He will _not_ let it drag him back down into that eventual end. He made a promise to himself, after the mess that was Kirkwall, that he would cut that part out of him. He would find his purpose again, without the Chantry's leash holding him back. All he could tell himself was that it would make things better if he could. For others, and for himself.

Still, his mind is a traitor to his resolve. It whispers to him, on late nights just like this, that it would be so much easier to let the discomfort fade away with lyrium's cool burn. He knows roughly where it is, and with the need for a lyrium supply for the Templars in the Inquisition, he knows just who to ask to get it. For a moment, he is tempted. He could climb out of his bed and make his way down to the stores, and in minutes, he would be able to sleep without nightmares. It would be so easy. All of the agony would just go away.

But the moment that thought enters his mind, pressing over the thought of “I’m not strong enough to deal with this”, a voice not his own slides in and overpowers it. 

_You can._

It isn’t a magic balm that instantly takes the craving and pain away. Even though the Inquisitor is a mage, they aren’t that powerful. But the memory of that support, of the hand gently covering his own, is enough to keep him in place. 

He doesn’t just want to do it for them, 

_(for the special smile that is just for him and warms him from head to toe, for the sound of their voice and laugh, for the sparkle in their eyes, for how much he wants to hold their hand and walk across the battlements, for the curve of their lips, for the strength in their limbs, for the brightness in their heart, for THEM)_

but they definitely make it easier. It is good to know that there is someone on his side, that he can make it through his own personal hell with someone who believes in him. He can do this. For himself and for his future.

The headache eases just slightly, and with it, a shuddering breath of relief escapes him, the white knuckle grip on his sheets relaxing. Finally. He might just be able to fall asleep, with only a few hours before dawn. His eyes close, tilting his head into the cool breeze blowing through the hole in the roof, and he breathes in, slow and steady. He can do this. It is awful, but there is an end in sight. One day, he will see all that the Inquisition has done, that he helped to do, and it will be enough.

He finds a comfortable position on his back, the blankets pulled up to his waist, and he looks to the side for a moment, to the empty space next to him. For a moment, he wonders how it would be to sleep with someone else in the bed, but that thought alone is enough to make him blush. He tries to put the thought out of his head, but he still finds himself reaching a hand out, touching the cool sheets and imagining feeling the warmth of skin instead. Then he shakes his head and snakes his hand back.

No. That is just something to dream about. It’s not likely to happen, as much as he might hope. He contents himself with the warmth in his chest and the memory of a voice as sleep finally deigns to wrap him in its embrace.

_You can._

_You can._

_**I can. Thank you.** _

**Author's Note:**

> I have no personal experience with drug addiction, so there may be errors in my characterization of Cullen's withdrawal. It was based on Cullen's dialogue, codex entries about lyrium, and my own imagination.


End file.
